I Know
by freudian fuckup
Summary: Do you love me, Moony?"


Remus never quite felt safe with Sirius around. Sirius Black, who could moisten a legion of knickers with one wink. Sirius Black, who could charm even _McGonagall_ into letting him out of detention. Sirius Black, the boy Remus had watched shag his way through the entire school without ever once glancing in Remus's direction. No, with Sirius nearby, Remus always got the feeling that things were either going to go really swimmingly, or horribly, tragically awry. There was never any middle ground.

So when Sirius Black began shagging James Potter, Remus knew it was either a wonderful step in the right direction, or a crushing blow against Remus's weatherworn heart.

Not that he _officially_ _knew_ what the two were up to, but he did. In fact, what irritated Remus most was the fact that had he gone up to either of them and said, "You—_you're_ having sex with _him_," they most likely would have shrugged and begun to snog out in the open, just to prove how amazing it was.

Yes, that's what James and Sirius were about, you see. For all their carefree cool, they worked very hard at making sure anyone and everyone realize just how fucking _brilliant_ they were, and just how unlikely it was that the onlooker would every get to touch them. And they were _good_ at it, too. Especially when the audience was a captive one, forced to sleep in the next bed and listen to the pair of them howling and moaning together in the dead of night. It was literally maddening.

Most evenings, Remus would cast a lot of powerful silencing charms at them, roll away and pretend not to feel the floor vibrating as they shook the bed. Some nights though, Remus would just lie there, listening to the two of them, his cock in his hand, wishing to god he were one of them, wishing he were that beautiful and amazing and brilliant so that someone would want to make _him_ make those sounds. Some one like Sirius Black.

But there was no one like Sirius Black. From the first moment they'd met, Remus knew that much. It was only their third night in the castle, but Sirius had already cozied up to half the female Gryffindors, and had already declared the remaining half to be lesbians, until proven otherwise. He'd asked to see Remus's charms work, and Remus was so taken aback that anyone (let alone Sirius Black) was talking to him, he'd surrendered his assignment and forgotten to get it back. Sirius only noticed this when Remus was dressed down by Flitwick the next day, and had insisted on making it up to the shy werewolf. The next weekend, he'd snuck a load of butterbeer into the dormitory and gotten Remus plastered as a 'thank you', and they had, of course, been friends ever since.

But really, this business with him and James was getting quite obscene, and Remus really wished they'd cast their own damn silencing charms and maybe _not_ sound so fucking gorgeous moaning and whimpering in the dark.

"Careful… careful…"

"S'ok, I got it. I got—ahh!"

"Fuck, Prongs!"

"Ahh! Sorry, you're just so—fucking—aggghhh… _brilliant_."

"Oh gods… Fuck…"

"Oh shite. I'm gonna—oh, Merlin. I can't—stop. I have to—ahh!"

"Don'stop, don't… Stop… Shit, holymotherofbuggeringhell!"

"Jesus, Pads… So fucking tight… Hot… Fuck!"

"Jamie," a voice whispered.

And then it got very quiet, and all Remus could hear was his own heartbeat and the muffled sound of movement in the bed beside his. His own cock painfully hard against his abdomen, Remus fought to keep his hands at his sides, straining to hear, as though he might make out their movements through the noises they made. But eventually the movement stopped.

"Alright?"

"Yeah… yeah."

"Right, good… _Fuck_."

A barking laugh filled the room. "Precisely."

"Git."

"Yeah… Jamie?"

"What?"

"I… Nothing. I love you, you great tosser."

"I know... You'd better—I mean, I need to get to sleep…"

And the room went still. Remus was practically squirming with arousal, but he knew if he wanked now, they would hear and know that _he'd_ heard (not that they'd care). A few seconds passed, and the bed shifted. Sirius's shadow stretched across Remus's body as the tall, lean boy extracted himself from James' bed. The pale moonlight traced the lines of muscle across Sirius's back, shining and shimmering much more than seemed natural. Even the moon wanted to touch him.

Sirius turned and pushed his hair from his eyes (though it immediately fell back into place), and looked directly at Remus. Remus froze. Too late to play asleep, he stared back, waiting for Sirius to walk away or laugh or hex his face off. But he didn't, he just stood there, boxers inside out, sweating and breathing deeply, and making Remus's prick ache and twitch.

"Hey Reemy, didn't know you were up," he said in a lazy drawl.

"I just… I couldn't sleep…"

"Funny, me either," he said with a crooked, sad smile.

Suddenly, Sirius was on Remus's bed and under his blankets, stretched out and sighing and sweating and sleepy. It was all Remus could do not to curl into his friend's side, lick away the sweat on his brow. He wanted to tell him—_I'd never make you leave after. I'd never let you walk away. I'd never let you go_. But he didn't. And then Sirius was snoring. When Remus awoke the next day, Sirius was in his own bed.

From then on, that was how it went. James and Sirius kissed and moaned and fucked and fought, and Remus let Sirius under his covers and under his skin. No one talked about it. Peter barely even noticed the game of musical beds being played in his own room. In fact, by day, they were the same silly, stupid boys they'd always been.

But one night, James got Evans, and Sirius got drunk. Very drunk. The two events were completely unrelated, of course.

"Jamie… Come on, you're so beautiful like this," whispered a voice in the middle of the night, between quiet kissing sounds.

"Stop, Sirius… I can't, alright? I love her—"

"You don't love her, you _worship_ her, Prongs."

"Whatever. I can't do this—we can't do this."

"Sure we can."

A soft moan emanated from behind the drapery, and Remus shivered. He could only imagine what method of persuasion Sirius had chosen.

"Can't—aghh! Sirius! No, I _can't_, alright?"

There was no reply, but the bed quaked and Sirius emerged, boxers in hand, naked, save for a thin sheen of sweat. Remus watched him move in the dark. Shoulders hunched, arms drawn to his chest, he looked nearly human, and Remus had the insane urge to hug him. But he _couldn't_, so he didn't. But then Sirius spun around and Remus gasped, almost inaudibly. Sirius's cock hung hard and heavy at Remus's eyelevel. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to lean in and lick it and touch it and taste it and see if _he_ could make Sirius Black make those sounds.

"Moony?"

"Hrrrhh?"

"Can I get in?"

It took Remus a moment to focus on the words and understand what Sirius meant. "Oh, right… sure," he said, sliding over.

Sirius climbed beneath the sheets and propped himself on an elbow, inches from Remus's face. He wreaked of booze and sweat and sex, but Remus couldn't have cared less.

"Moony?"

"What, Sirius?" he said, irritable from his own erection.

"D'you love me?"

"What?"

"Do you love me, Moony?"

"I… Sirius, you're drunk."

"Yeah. And you're pretty. You know that, Moony? You're so beautiful," he said, carding his fingers through Remus's hair before trailing them down along his cheek. But all Remus could hear was Sirius's voice telling James how beautiful he was mere minutes ago.

"Go to sleep, Pads. You'll feel better in the morning."

"I don't want to…"

"What do you want then?" said Remus, hoping Sirius might pass out so he could have a quick wank.

"You." And they were kissing.

There was no hesitation or build up, probably because half the kiss was drunk, just a careening, colliding mess of tongues and teeth, sliding and clacking against one another feverishly. Remus kept telling himself to pull away, but Sirius's hand was fisted in his coppery hair, holding him in place, and soon he was pushing back, pressing their bodies together, trying to get as much contact as possible. Sirius took advantage, rolling himself onto Remus's chest, crushing the smaller boy into the mattress.

"So… fucking… gorgeous," he whispered between kisses.

"Shut up, Pads," Remus said seriously. He knew Sirius was drunk, but he honestly couldn't decide who was taking advantage of whom. Maybe this was it though. Maybe this would be the moment he convinced Sirius Black to want _him_, to shag _him_, to love _him_. And with that thought, that stupid, dangerous hope, Remus gave in, parting his lips and legs and letting Sirius do just as he pleased (as though there'd ever been any question).

Sirius reached between them, tugging Remus's pajama pants down round his knees. Remus gasped at the new sensation, his cock brushing against Sirius's skin. Before he'd had a chance to adjust, Sirius was on to something else, fumbling about on the nightstand for Remus's wand. Without a word, something flew to Sirius's hand from beneath James' bed. There was soft clicking noise of glass and perhaps metal, and a rustle of movement and Remus whimpered.

"Pads…"

"Shhh, s'ok."

"What are—what are you doing?"

"Just lie still," Sirius said coolly.

And Remus obeyed, out of shock mostly. Something slick and cool was working its way along the cleft of his arse, probing at his entrance and then slipping inside. It felt strange and foreign and uncomfortable, but Remus tried his best to relax, because he _wanted_ to do this for Sirius. He wanted to do this with him.

A second finger slid inside a bit quickly and Remus whimpered, but Sirius leaned in and kissed him quiet. Finally, a third finger pressed past the tight ring of muscle and Sirius began moving and scissoring his fingers in time with their tongues. Without warning, he withdrew his hand and Remus's breath caught in his throat. He really wished Sirius would say something, _anything_, but at the same time he worried what might come out. He worried it would be about someone else.

While Remus was thinking, Sirius had sat up and was scrambling to align himself with Remus's entrance.

"Sirius…"

"I know, I know, alright? I've got you. You're ok, Moons, I swear." And then he was in.

It hurt. A lot. Remus had never imagined this kind of dull, consuming ache, but as it spread through his abdomen, tears worked their way down his cheeks.

"Shhh, calm down, Moony," said Sirius, rocking slowly inside him.

It began with small, cautious thrusts, but too quickly Sirius sped up and began pumping in and out of Remus's body in an unsteady rhythm. It didn't hurt anymore, though Remus was still a bit uncomfortable, but then Sirius wrapped a sweaty hand around Remus's cock and stroked him in time with his own movements. It wasn't anything like Remus had imagined. There was no kissing or caressing or gentle touches. This was a fuck, and there was no way around it. But it didn't matter, because he had Sirius Black. Every girl in school (and plenty of the boys) would die to have him, but at that moment, he belonged to Remus, belonged inside Remus. And that was what mattered.

"Ahh! Fuck, Moony. You're so… Beautiful… So… _Good_. Oh gods. Oh gods, I'm going to—to…"

Remus shut his eyes and let the words wash over him. Suddenly, Sirius froze. With four jerky, hard thrusts, he was coming deep inside Remus's body, and Remus had never been harder. Sirius barely touched him and he came all over his own chest and abdomen.

"Shite, Moony… Moony, Moony, Moony…" he chanted, collapsing on Remus's sticky torso.

Remus kept opening his mouth to speak, but the words seemed caught in his lungs. He had Sirius Black—softening and sliding out of _his_ body, not James Potter's, not some bird's. _His_. And this moment was his, and those words were his, and Sirius Black was his. Still, a sense of foreboding settled in Remus's stomach and Sirius shifted and rose from the bed.

"Thanks, Moons… You were brilliant. Hope I remember it in the morning," he said, not meeting Remus's eye.

"Pads?"

"…Yeah?"

"I do."

"Do what?"

"What you asked me earlier… If I loved you… I do."

"I know."

And Sirius collapsed on his own bed in a sticky heap. Remus lay there for hours, feeling the sweat cool on his skin and Sirius's come work its way down his thigh. He could still feel where Sirius's stubble had burned his cheeks and every place their skin touched seemed to tingle, but Remus had never felt more alone. And as his breathing grew steady and sleep seemed inevitable, Remus realized what he'd known since that third night in the castle—that he would never be beautiful or incredible or amazing or _brilliant_ enough to _have_ Sirius Black (at least not in any of the ways he wanted him), and perhaps no one ever would be.


End file.
